


Silence

by ItsyBitsyBatsySpider



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Peter, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I love you 3000, Im tired, Lots of Angst, No Smut, Other, Sad, but it has a cute ending, if you dont wanna cry then dont read this, just read this, pre-Civil War, so you might as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 23:22:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20090491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsyBitsyBatsySpider/pseuds/ItsyBitsyBatsySpider
Summary: It is absolutely terrifyingThe kind of deep sufferingThe happiest looking peopleAre able to hide inside themselves(A look into Peters life from before Civil War to the end of Endgame)





	Silence

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first Marvel fic, and please keep in mind that half of this thing is edited and the other half i wrote on the spot. So i apologize if some of it is inconsistent.  
This also takes place before Civil War and goes all the way to the end of Endgame.  
Hope you all enjoy!  
(kind of)

_ It is absolutely terrifying _

_ The kind of deep suffering _

_ The happiest looking people _

_ Are able to hide inside themselves _

* * *

Peter hadn’t always been the quiet kid. 

He used to be the vocal child in class whenever the teacher asked a question. His hand would be the first to shoot up into the air, and he would answer with a proud smile on his face. Reveling in the fact that he knew the answer to the questions.

He used to always ask May and Ben how their days were. Every day. And their faces were light up with a small grin and they always said the same thing. “My day was fine, thank you Peter.” or that is until someone annoyed them at their work and May needed a couple minutes to rant. And then Peter would listen intently and nod along to his aunt’s ramblings. 

He used to be the most talkative of the group. Stumbling over his words, going a hundred miles a minute, and ecstatically talking to his friends about the latest Star Wars Lego model or even Iron Man’s most recent heroic endeavors. 

But just because he talked a lot, didn’t mean he didn’t know when to be quiet. He knew when to be silent during tests, quizzes, certain moments at home. He knew that it was a special, delicate balance, to know when to talk and when to be quiet, and Peter could balance on the scale perfectly. 

And then years later, came the spider-bite. 

And Peter became silent. 

He started to keep quiet during class. Didn’t raise his hand to answer questions, even though he knew the answers. He couldn’t even raise his hand if he wanted to. They were stuck to the desk. His teachers noticed, and they became worried. Because Peter always participated in class, he was one of the brightest students they knew. So one day, his physics teacher pulled him aside and asked if something was wrong. His eyes blinked rapidly and he stuttered and took a step back. “I’m fine,” he said, “Just haven’t been sleeping well.” 

“Well I hope it gets better.” she had said. It didn’t. 

He stopped asking how Ben and May’s days were, for he was too worried about his own. Wondering over and over how he would make it to the end of the day without revealing that something was wrong with himself. He didn’t even listen to May’s rants anymore, his ears only listening to the anxious whirlwind tumbling inside his head. Growing louder and louder as the hours passed by slowly, until they were cacophonous. He would stand up from the dinner table, and rush to his room, silent as a ghost, leaving behind a confused and worried aunt and uncle in his wake. 

He stopped being so talkative in his small friend group. Only answering when he was asked something, and even then his answers were short and stuttered. Almost as if he wasn’t paying attention to what they were talking about. And Ned quickly caught onto the fact that his best friend’s mind was somewhere else. For it was visible in the way his eyes danced across the room cautiously, and every time he jumped for no reason. His fingers would be tapping, his eyes fluttering, his leg bouncing, and his mind elsewhere. Peter wasn’t paying attention to the new Lego sets anymore, nor the new Iron Man/Tony Stark news, he hadn’t been for a while, for he had much more pressing matters to deal with than children toys and superhero idols. And his silence did not go unnoticed by his friend. 

Peter distanced himself, and he became quiet, almost like the shadow in the corner of your eye. Almost unnoticeable, nearly invisible, until you turned your head and found him standing there. 

No one knew what was going on with him, for he told no one what was happening, he was too scared and anxious to do anything. Much more anxious than the day when he came out as a boy to his aunt and uncle. 

And then he used his powers. 

It began with him lifting a fallen kid over the side of a bridge. He had caught him single-handedly when he had slipped over the edge, and it was like an alarm bell went off inside of his head, screaming at him to notice that there was danger, and to act upon it. And then Peter had effortlessly pulled the small boy back onto the bridge to safety. Away from the hundreds of feet that floated beneath their feet and the crashing waves of the river. 

The father of the child had rushed forward, thanking Peter profusely and hugging his son with such happiness and relief that it seemed to awaken something inside of Peter. 

His chest grew warm, his heart swelled with pride, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He had been able to help someone with these strange gifts, and it had left a wonderful feeling settling inside of him. He went home that day, feeling better than he had in a long time, and when he walked through the door Ben had asked, “Hey Pete, did something good happen today? You’re smiling.” and Peter waved his hand, a grin still plastered on his face, and he said “Nah, Ned just said something funny at school.” before walking into his room and shutting the door. 

The following day, he stopped a hot dog stand from being robbed. A man had tried to steal the money out of the register and without thinking, Peter grabbed onto the back of his jacket, immediately sticking to the fabric, and yanked him down onto the ground. Peter was met with the sound of a crack and the man groaning in pain as the owner of the cart came up and grabbed the money out of the thief’s hands. He then turned to Peter and thanked him for helping. And that warm feeling rose up inside of Peter’s chest again. 

And when he came home again, smiling wide and bright, he kept quiet about his deeds. Even though he was vibrating with excitement at the dinner table. He wanted to tell Ben and May everything, he really did, but he also knew that if he drew them into this whole thing, superpowers and eventual bad guys, then there would be no backing out of it. They would be in danger, and it would be much safer for them if they didn’t know. 

But...life doesn’t work like that. 

Peter was out one day after school, and he was distracted with testing the limits of his powers, ie how much weight he could lift without strain, how far did his adhesive ability go, what was his endurance, and so on. Which is why he wasn’t able to pick up his phone and see the seventeen missed calls from his Uncle Ben. 

Peter hadn’t texted them that day to give them an excuse as to why he was late. Something that Peter made sure to do every time he went out.

Study group. 

Library study time. 

Hanging out with Ned. 

Just going for a walk.

New Iron Man comic books. 

Captain America sighting in Brooklyn. 

Detention.

Shopping. 

Chilling at a coffee shop and doing school work. 

The list went on and on, and the one day that Peter forgot to give them one, was the day that he was going to regret most. 

For Uncle Ben had gotten worried and decided to head out and look for Peter. The man had never been one to sit by and wait for his loved ones to come home, for he was the kind of man who would do anything to find his family and bring them back safe. Which is why when he headed out in search of his nephew, he would be leaving behind his home and wife for the very last time. 

When Peter got home that night, well after 9:00 and having missed his train, he was met with the sight of police cars in front of his apartment building.  _ Did somebody get robbed? _ He thought to himself as he entered. He walked his way up the stairs, and much to his shock, found policemen lingering in his hallway. Peter felt his blood run cold and his heart drop into his stomach. 

Something was very wrong. 

We walked up to the officers, ducking his head, and feeling his tongue swell up and feel fuzzy. He suddenly couldn’t form words. 

“What’re you looking at kid? Keep walking.” one of the men said to him gruffly. Peter swallowed thickly. 

“Uhmm, uh, but uhm, I-I” 

The door suddenly opened, and the haunting appearance of Aunt May greeted Peter’s eyes. Her hair tied up messily, a loose cardigan over her narrow shoulders and tank top, and her warm eyes, cold. May let out a heart-breaking sigh of relief and rushed over to her nephew. 

“Oh Peter!” She exclaimed breathily. She wrapped up the teen in a desperate hug, her head leaning on his shoulder and shaky gasps escaping her. 

Peter felt his eyes well up with tears. He didn’t know why. 

“May?” he asked uncertainly. “Wh-what...” 

“Oh Peter I’m so glad you’re home safe. You had us all worried.” 

A small smile flickered across his lips. “Did you call the cops because of me?” he asked his aunt. The woman in his arms stiffened and she stopped breathing, the action wiping the smile off of Peter’s instantly. 

May withdrew from her embrace and looked at Peter with broken eyes. So, so broken. The boy felt his chest turn hollow and he gulped nervously. 

What was wrong?

“Peter…...let’s go inside.” 

* * *

Peter was silent. 

He never said a word. 

He didn’t have anything to say. 

He went about his days the exact same way over and over, with no fault. Wake up, eat breakfast, go to school, Spider-Man, come home, eat dinner, then go to bed. And on and on and on it went. He didn’t talk at school, by now everyone had heard about what happened, and thanks to Peter’s heightened senses, he could hear every word they whispered. He just tugged his hoodie farther over his face in retaliation.

He didn’t talk to May, but when he did, it was when he was asking her if she was okay. Which she would reply with a nod of her head or a mute smile. Peter knew it was fake. 

He didn’t talk to people as Spider-Man anymore either. He would help and then he would leave. He didn’t stay behind long enough to catch up with the police or to take pictures with civilians or even playfully banter. He would just swing in, stop the crime, and then leave without a word. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone. He didn’t even feel like talking to Ned, even though his friend had made it clear that he was there for him no matter what, and that if Peter ever needed him that he would be there to listen and understand. 

But  _ could  _ Ned understand? Could he understand the overwhelming guilt Peter felt? Could he understand why he felt like shit all the time? Could he understand how stressful and angry Peter felt whenever he thought about what happened? Could he understand how Peter’s doubts kept clawing at him from inside, picking at him over and over again, telling him, reminding him of what he could’ve done differently? Could he understand how hopeless he felt!? Could he understand how it was all Peter’s fault in the first place!? That if Peter had sent him a text, an excuse, then none of this would’ve happened!? 

Because then Ben wouldn’t have gotten worried! 

Because then he wouldn’t have left!

Because then he wouldn’t have walked around Queens!

And he wouldn’t have gone into that store to buy coffee to keep him awake!

Then he wouldn’t have been there when that man came!

Then he wouldn’t have tried to get the man to hand him the gun!

Because then he wouldn’t have gotten  ** _SHOT_ ** !

…

No. Ned couldn’t understand. It was all Peter’s fault, so therefore it was his burden to bear. 

So he remained silent. 

* * *

Peter grieved the loss of Uncle Ben, and with that loss came realization. This happened because of him. With all of the things that he could do, all of the amazing, crazy things, he didn’t do the one thing that mattered. And when it had happened, it had happened because of him.

So a week later, after long nights of designing, building, and sewing, Spider-Man made his very first debut. 

It seemed appropriate to Peter, that his superhero name was related to the thing that gave him his powers in the first place. It seemed fair. And besides, he couldn’t exactly call himself Sticky Man, that would just be horrible and weird. And while yes, he understood that ‘Spider-Man’ probably wasn’t so original, it was the only thing that he could think of. 

The first sighting of the Spider-Man, was when he had stopped a group of criminals from getting away after robbing a bank. He had landed in front of the racing car and webbed the wheels, completely immobilizing them. It was the first thing that came to mind when he saw the car. Stop the wheels, stop the car, stop the baddies. It made sense. But maybe he should’ve thought it through first, he was in physics class after all and he should’ve realized what was going to happen. The second the two front wheels were webbed, the van immediately braked and the robbers crashed into the windshield, cracking the glass. The tires skid across the road, leaving ugly, black marks, and the sound of screeching metal grinded on Peter’s sensitive hearing, causing the teen to cringe in pain and close his eyes shut. Which led to him swinging into a brick wall and falling onto the pavement sidewalk. 

It did not go well. 

Then after shaking off his dizziness and obvious concussion, Peter webbed the guys up, even though they were passed out cold, and took off. Swinging through the city awkwardly, since he still needed to practice. It was all a disaster. 

And that night at the dinner table, May brought it up. She had seen the incident on the news and had begun chattering about it excitedly, mentioning how it was nice having a low-key superhero on the block, even if he did mess up his first appearance. She said that she found it endearing how he tried his hardest to catch the bad guys, but then she brought up the traffick he had been caused because of the sticky van and the property damage that came from the accident. 

So Peter remained silent. 

And he remained silent for the rest of the night, even when he checked his bruised ribs alone in his room. He hissed in pain as his hand rubbed against the sensitive blue and yellow skin, and the boy made a face as he realized that that was not going to feel good in the morning. 

But surprisingly, he felt fine. The following dawn he had woken up, same as always, to his Star Wars alarm clock, and he noticed surprisingly that his ribs didn’t hurt as they had yesterday. He lifted his shirt up and looked at his side in the mirror hanging in his room. The bruises were now notably smaller and a more healthy brown color than the sickly blue they had been previously. 

Guess he was going to add enhanced healing to that list of growing powers. 

Then by the time he was having lunch at school with Ned, the bruises were almost nonexistent. So he remained silent. And didn’t say anything to anyone. 

* * *

Spider-Man began to make more appearances, and by the end of the month, he was a sort-of well-known vigilante. The police department didn’t really care for him, they seemed to find him as a nuisance. Except for the 99th Precinct, who had this one guy there who was absolutely ecstatic about having another superhero in New York. He even bought Peter coffee one time and something called a Sloppy Jessica, which was really just carbs on cheese on more carbs, and chili. And it tasted like heaven itself.

Peter mostly stopped small crimes. Convenience store hold-ups, ATM robberies, stolen bikes, car thieves, helping lost children get home, feeding a few homeless people with his allowance money, those kinds of things. He mainly did small deeds that didn’t seem that big of a deal; nothing like the big threats the Avengers had to deal with on a weekly basis. The most dangerous thing he had done so far was catching a three thousand pound car going forty miles an hour with his bare hands, and that incident alone had caused Peter so much anxiety and emotional drainage. 

He talked to people from jumping off of a bridge, he made sure that women got home safely when they asked him for help, he played basketball with neighborhood kids, and he even supported his local bodega and did his best to keep it from closing down. 

Peter did small good things that made all the difference to those people’s lives because he knew how it felt to be looked over. He used to be the little guy and now that he had these powers, he knew that he needed to be the bigger person and use them for good. To protect the little guy! That’s what these powers were for. 

And he was going to do everything he could to protect everyone.

Because that’s what he wasn’t able to do for Uncle Ben.

* * *

Then Germany happened, and Peter met Mr. Stark. One of the greatest things to happen in his life. 

He got a new suit, met Captain America (even if it was in a fight), fought side by side with Iron Man, got an awesome AI named Karen, his best friend found out he was Spider-Man, and then he stopped his first big-time villain, the Vulture, and was offered to be the newest member of the Avengers. 

He was finally becoming the superhero he was meant to be. 

And then May had found out, when he had made the stupid decision of leaving his room door open when he thought he was home alone, and then they both freaked out for the next half hour over everything. But eventually, they both were able to calm down and actually talk. 

And May was just as supportive of Peter being a hero, as she was when he came out. Understanding, helpful, and then suddenly thinking of all the ways she could’ve helped beforehand. 

“Peter if I had known you were coming home with bruises, I would have put out ice packs for you!”

“May, it’s fine really.” the brunet said, trying to calm his frantic aunt. 

She gasped. “That time you came home from Germany with Mr. Stark and you had that black eye?” 

Peter froze. “....Captain America?” 

“Oh, Peter!” 

“But I’m fine!”

And so on that went for another hour or so before Peter finally got her to stop mother henning him and chill out. But that only lasted for a couple of minutes, before she got up from her spot and began walking away, her stride swift and determined. Peter watched as his aunt stormed off, feeling uneasy. 

“Uh, May? What’re you doing?” he asked. The woman picked up her phone that was resting on the countertop and began tapping away at the screen. 

“Calling Tony Stark,” she said. “I’m giving him a piece of my mind of snagging you away to Germany and then letting you fight a war criminal.” 

“MAY!” 

So yes, Peter’s life may have gotten flipped and turned upside down, but it was a good thing he knew how to walk on ceilings. 

A few more months went by, and Peter continued to be Spider-Man and loving it. Swinging close to the ground, helping his community, playing basketball with kids and helping kind old ladies cross the street was great. And for a moment, Peter believed that his life wouldn’t get any more exciting than that.

That is until he had a field trip. 

The moment he felt the hairs on his arms rise and the alarm bell sound in his head, Peter knew something was up. And lo and behold, there was a giant alien doughnut spaceship hovering over the city a couple of miles away from him. 

This was not good. 

So Peter, with the help of Ned, got out of the bus, avoided the school trip, and went flying towards the spaceship, determined to stop whatever it was doing and get back to his trip before anyone knew he was gone. But soon enough, the brunet knew that that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, for it all went downhill from there. 

Peter got onto the spaceship, much to Mr. Stark’s chagrin, and he, along with Mr. Stark and Doctor Strange made their way to another alien planet. Where they met aliens like an antennae girl, a weird green and red tattooed guy who didn’t get metaphors, and another human who seemed to think that Footloose was the greatest movie of all time.

These were not the aliens he was expecting. 

Yet here they were, stranded on a deserted planet, trying to come up with a plan to take down the most dangerous villain in the entire galaxy, and one of them was talking about how he saved the galaxy with a dance-off. They really were doomed, weren’t they?

But then Doctor strange did a weird thing where he looked into the hundreds of thousands of futures, he came up with a plan for them to take down Thanos. 

So when Thanos came, with his huge golden armor and grape-ass looking mug and shiny glove, Peter felt pretty confident that they were going to win. Which is why he was devastated when he found out that they failed. 

_ It’s my fault  _ he thought  _ I should’ve pulled on the glove harder. I almost had it. Why wasn’t I faster? If I had gotten the glove, then Mr. Stark wouldn’t be hurt right now and Mr. Doctor Strange wouldn’t have given up the stone, it’s all my fault.  _

Peter slumped against his rock, hi body aching in pain as the effects from the fight finally caught up to him. His back felt like it had been cracked in half and like his face was going to burst from being hit so many times. He knew that he got in a few good hits against Thanos, but in the end, it was all for naught. 

Thanos got the stone, and now he was on earth fighting the other Avengers. And Peter could only hope that they could succeed where they failed. 

So Peter waited on the deserted planet and walked over to Mr. Stark to help him up, the rest of their team coming back to their senses and gathering around. And Peter thought, for a moment, that maybe there was hope, until Mantis, the green antennae girl, got a haunted look on her face. Her black eyes widening in fear. 

“Something’s happening,” she said, her voice soft and cracking. And Peter watched with horror as she disappeared before his very eyes. He gasped in shock and panic settled in his bones. 

“Quill?” Drax said as he slowly began to disappear too. And then in an instant, he was gone. Quill breathed heavily, fear and terror evident on his face as he turned to look at Tony, his eyes wide. 

“Steady Quill,” his mentor said. 

“Oh, man…” the Guardian said as he too disappeared into nothing but ash. Peter swallowed thickly and he took a step back. He’d never seen anyone die before. And certainly not like that. But before he could react anymore, a deep, painful ache resonated throughout his body. 

“Tony,” Peter vaguely heard Doctor Strange say. “There was no other way.” and with that, he too turned to ash, drifting in the wind. The ache grew stronger in Peter, and his heart began to hammer painfully inside his chest. 

“Mr. Stark?” he asked, his voice small and terrified. “I don’t feel so good.” Peter stared at his hands, the ache growing even stronger and his head began to buzz with his sixth sense. Something was happening. What was happening? What was wrong with him? Was he going to disappear too? Please no, he couldn’t disappear. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. 

“I don- I don’t know what’s happening t-to me. I don’t know what’s happening to me.” he stumbled forward and clutched to his mentor, feeling so much pain inside of him. Why wouldn’t it stop. Please let it stop. He wanted it to stop. Peter clung to Mr. Stark. He didn’t want to disappear. 

“I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go Mr. Stark please, I don’t wanna go.” 

Peter stumbled, feeling his legs go numb, and he fell to the ground. He felt himself begin to fade. He knew it, he was disappearing just like everyone else, and he saw Mr. Stark hovering over him, his eyes reflecting the fear that Peter felt. He turned to look at Mr. Stark, nothing but sorrow and pain in his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry now, he was going to be strong. For Mr. Stark. For his mentor.

“I’m sorry,” 

And in the moments before he disappeared, in the moments he felt his body turn to dust, he thought to himself,  _ it was my fault, it was my fault, it was my fault, it was my fault…. _

And then he was silent. 

* * *

Peter awoke to someone shaking him awake, and he groaned. Why was someone waking him up? He was having such a nice nap. It was some of the best sleep he’d had in a long time. 

“-eter….Peter….PETER!” 

The boy jolted awake, his eyes snapping open and his bones popping as he sat up suddenly. He groaned as he felt a head rush come on and he winced in discomfort. 

“Good you’re awake.” 

The teen groaned and cracked open his eyes. He saw Doctor Strange looking down at him, blue-green eyes piercing and the red cloak billowing behind him. “It’s time. We’ve been gone for five years, and there’s a battle ahead of us. They need us right now.” he said. The man got up and slipped something onto his fingers as Peter felt his head begin to clear. 

And then everything came back to him. Thanos. The battle. The disappearance. And Mr. Stark. 

Peter’s eyes widened and he shot up off of the ground. 

“Wait it’s been five years!?” he exclaimed. Mr. Doctor Strange nodded and Peter felt his jaw drop open. How could it have been five years? It had only felt like a really long nap to Peter. It can’t have been that long. It couldn’t have. Peter put on his mask, and he felt anxiety rise inside of him as the rest of Strange’s words registered in his brain. There was a battle ahead of them, and he had to be ready. Well, it was a good thing that he had a nap beforehand.

The wizard swirled his hands in a familiar pattern and a sparkly portal opened before them. And together, all of them walked through. Quill, Mantis, Drax, Mr. Strange, and him.

And Peter saw an army, a huge army, of wizards, humans, Asgardians, and so many others. Everyone was there. And there at the center of the front line was Captain America himself. Dirtied, bloodied, with his shield torn in half. 

The sky was dark, charcoal clouds as far as the eye could see, an enormous army of aliens and monsters that would for sure haunt Peter for the rest of his life and there at their command, was Thanos himself. The one who had been the cause of all of this and the one who had made him disappear. 

“Avengers!” He yelled, his voice strong and authoritative. Peter crouched low into a battle stance, feeling his muscles tense with apprehension and the air filled with intense determination. His eyes narrowed into hard obsidian with a fire lit inside of them and Peter summoned his mask once more. 

This was a war, and he was going to fight. And this time, they were going to win. 

A hammer flew towards Cap, and Peter saw the hero grasp it with ease. The brunet’s eyes widened. It was Mjolnir. 

And this was it.

“...assemble.”

War cries filled Peter’s ears and everyone rushed forward. Thousands of pairs of feet thundering across the plane and towards the army of Thanos. Warships humming as they flew by, and hundreds upon thousands of people running to begin the fight of their lives. 

Peter shot a web and began to swing forward, and for a strange moment, Peter heard nothing. He couldn’t hear anything other than his own heartbeat and panted breathing. The world around him was silent for a moment, and all the boy could hear was blood roaring in his ears and the buzzing of the beginning battle.

This was it. 

And then the silence was gone. And the two armies met. 

Peter could barely make out anything. It was all a blur to him. Punch here, kick there, dodge here and web there. 

He could hardly remember the actions he did. But then he saw a huge monster out of the corner of his eye, and the monster had hit aside a familiar figure in red and gold. The man hit the ground hard and the alien towering over him raised his weapon in an attempt to end him. 

_ Oh no, you don’t.  _ Peter thought. He shot a web at the monster’s raised arm and pulled him down, effectively yanking the alien onto the cold ground and stopping him. And then before Peter could do anything else to attack him, Ant-Man stomped on him. Crushing him flat. 

_ Well, that was convenient.  _

Peter rushed forward, forgetting his initial shock, and he ran up to Mr. Stark. The mentor who he thought he was never going to see again. 

“Holy cow!” he exclaimed, pushing back his mask. “You will not believe what’s been going on!” Tony looked at Peter with a strange look, but the brunet brushed it aside because maybe he was looking at him strangely because it was the middle of battle or something, or maybe Mr. Stark had a concussion. 

“Do you remember when we were in space? And then I got all dusty? Well, I must’ve passed out because when I woke up you were gone, but Doctor Strange was there right? And he was all like ‘It’s been five years, come on they need us!’ and then he started doing that yellow sparkly thing he does all the time an- what’re you doing?” 

Mr. Stark had walked forward and drew the rambling teen into a hug, clinging onto him tightly, as if he was afraid that Peter was going to leave. And Peter, not knowing what to do, returned the hug. 

“Huh,” he said, quietly. “This is nice.” 

* * *

The battle was hard and tiring. Peter was fighting harder than he ever had in his entire life and the exhaustion was catching up to him. He was swinging, webbing, kicking, punching, dodging, flipping, running, helping, nonstop. Everywhere he went, there were more monsters. They just wouldn’t stop coming. And every time he took one down, two more would take its place. 

And then there was the Gauntlet. The damn thing that started it all. He had to get it to the brown van that Ant-Man and the other shrinking person were in and so far, the task was daunting. 

Grabbed the Gauntlet, which was handed to him from Mr. Black Panther, and he landed on another alien, effectively killing it from the impact. But he knew that more aliens were coming, and he couldn’t fight all of them while still holding the Gauntlet. 

So he did the one thing that his AI had been begging him to do since he first got her. 

“Karen! Activate Instant Kill!” 

And just like that, the spider prosthetics on his back activated and immediately began stabbing and slashing at all of the enemy aliens around him. Darting out faster than he ever could. 

But soon enough the monsters became too much, and they started piling on top of each other, clawing closer and closer to Peter. Until thankfully, Captain America decided to help. 

“Hey Queens,” he heard in his comms. “Heads up.” and then came Mjolnir, flying over Peter’s head like the saving grace that it was. The teen webbed onto the hammer and instantly went flying along with it, Gauntlet still in hand and away from all of the monsters. Peter soared through the air flying past blue lasers, fiery explosions, and across fields of monsters. But then before he got far, a blue laser came down out of nowhere and cut through his web, slicing the connection he had to Mjolnir. 

Peter fell towards the ground, and braced himself for impact, but before the ground could hit, a hand grabbed onto his arm. The teen looked up, and found himself staring face to face with an Iron Man suit, but it wasn’t Tony. 

“Hang on, I got you kid.” the figure said and Peter realized that it was Mrs. Potts! Since when did Mrs. Potts have an Iron Man suit? The woman pulled him through the air and then unexpectedly she threw Peter upwards and towards someone else. 

_ Is that a freaking pegasus!?  _ Peter briefly thought to himself as he landed on the flying white stallion and behind its rider. A woman with long dark braided hair and a gold, white, and blue suit. She held a long sword that glinted green in the battle light and Peter wondered how on earth she found a pegasus. But now was probably not the best time to be thinking about that.

“Hey!” He yelled over the din of explosions and fighting. “Nice to meet yoooo-OH MY GOD!!!” 

The pegasus dove forwards, causing Peter to just briefly lose his grip. But he quickly grabbed back on thanks to the spider prosthetics. 

But yet again, they didn’t very far when another blue laser struck down from above and the force of the explosion sent Peter flying through the air. One more time. 

The teen lost his grip on the Gauntlet for a second, and for a terrifying moment, Peter thought that he was going to fail again. He reached for the glove, stretching his arm as far as it would go, and his heart jumped when he felt the smooth metal come in contact beneath his fingers. 

He stuck to the Gauntlet and wrapped the prosthetics around himself the second he came in contact with the ground. He rolled for a couple of feet, his body jostling from the impact and his teeth chattering. He stood up and began running. 

He had to run. 

He had to get it to Ant-Man

He couldn’t fail again. 

But yet again, another blue laser came and knocked him backward, destroying the prosthetics as he tumbled across the ground and grunting in pain when he slid across rocks and dirt. Man, he did not like those lasers. 

He tried to get up, and reach for the Gauntlet, but yet more lasers came down. More and more exploded around him, deafening his ears and throwing dust and ash into his face. 

He couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t do anything. 

He was stuck. And he could do nothing about it. 

But then, the lasers stopped. The pounding stopped and so did everything else. 

Peter cracked open one eye and struggled to see what was going on, but the ash in the sky and the great alien ship flying high above him blocked whatever was happening from view. 

Until suddenly, the mothership exploded in a fiery collum of electric blue and sunset orange. 

_ WHOA, _ Peter thought as the remains of the ship fell down from the sky. 

The teen quickly turned around and grabbed the Gauntlet, keeping it close to his chest as the debris rained down. 

Once again, thundered roared in his ears as the ship crashed into the ground and Peter could do nothing but stay still as everything fell apart. But the teen was pleasantly surprised when a woman with short blonde hair, a suit of red, blue, and gold, and blue and orange energy crackling around her, landed right beside him with an air that could only be described as Big Dick Energy. 

“Hi,” he squeaked. “I’m..I’m Peter Parker.” 

The woman smirked. “Hey, Peter Parker. You got something for me?” Peter stood up off of the ground with a groan of pain and he looked out into the army of monster that loomed before them. He shuffled in his spot. 

“I don’t know how you’re gonna get through all that.” He said as he handed the Gauntlet to Glowing Lady, finally relaxing somewhat at the fact that he wasn’t the one carrying the burden anymore. And then suddenly, Scarlet Witch flew down and landed beside her, as well as Pegasus Lady, a black woman with a spear, Mrs. Potts, Mantis, another black girl with thick braided hair, and a bunch of others. 

“Don’t worry,” Scarlet said. 

“She’s got help.” 

And then together all of them began marching towards the army, their faces set in determination and their eyes glowing if ferocity. 

_ Whoa,  _ Peter thought.  _ I don’t wanna be on their bad side.  _

And he watched, as they all began to fight the monsters with a fierceness that Peter could only hope to achieve. The teen took a moment to breathe, finally able to rest since seeing Mr. Stark, and Peter desperately a second to regain his strength before continuing on. 

He stood for a minute, and then two, before squaring his shoulders and looking up with his head held high. Peter summoned his mask again, and then shot a web to a nearby cliff, it was time to go back.

This was not over.

* * *

It…. it was over. 

It was done. 

Peter watched, eyes wide and mouth dropped open, as the army of aliens disappeared into ash, exactly the same way as he had seen Quill, Mantis, and Drax turn to ash. It was a terrifying relief for the teen, and his shoulders dropped when he realized that he could finally breathe. It was finally over, and they had won. 

The brunet let the ghost of a small flicker across his lips, and he shot a web to look for Mr. Stark, the hero who had done the impossible and destroyed the entire army. But when he landed on the ground, finding Mr. Stark lying on the ground, skin pale, eyes distant, and half of his face burned black, Peter felt something hollow out his chest. 

His blood ran cold, and Peter was reminded grimly of the day he came home when his uncle was murdered. 

“Mr. Stark?” he asked as he rushed forward, his voice shaking and tired. He knelt down in front of his mentor, and a chill went down his spine as he saw that he didn’t see him. He wouldn’t look at him. “Hey, hey, Mr. Stark..c-can you h-hear me?” Mr. Stark still didn’t see him. Peter reached for and held his hand. He still didn’t respond. “It-it’s me, it’s Peter…” the boy breathed shakily, still trying to hold it together, but he found that his inner strength was waning. “We won.” he said, looking at the man with a flare of hope in his eyes. Please don’t let this be happening. He couldn’t afford to lose another father in his life. “Mr. Stark? We won Mr. Stark..” Peter’s vision began to blur and he felt something rise in his throat. “We won, we did it sir.” the teen reached for his mentor, his voice small and barely above a whisper. “p-please, we won…...I’m sorry…..Tony…..” 

The plea died in throat, for tears welled up and took their place. Peter felt gentle arms hug him from behind and try to pull him away from Tony. But he didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to leave Tony’s side. He couldn’t leave. All he had to do was get him to look at him, to  _ see  _ him, and then everything will be okay. Everything had to be okay. 

Peter covered his mouth with a gloved hand, tears falling down his ashen cheeks and bloodied face. 

And then Mrs. Potts sat down in front of Tony, her hair falling down her shoulders, and a look of calm sorrow settled on her face. And then Tony looked at her. His brown eyes focussing on his wife, and a softness dawning across his face. “Hey Pep…” he mumbled. Pepper placed her hand over Tony’s chest, on the glowing emblem on his chest, his charred hands covering hers. The blue glowed dimly. 

“Friday?” Pepper said clearly. 

“Life functions critical.” the AI responded and Peter choked back a sob. He had to be okay, he had to be okay, he had to be okay. 

But then Peter saw Tony smile. A soft, head-tilted smile, that just looked so much like the real Tony. Not the fragile, dying Tony right here who had taken his place. And in that moment Peter knew….this was it. 

“Tony, look at me,” Pepper said softly, and Tony really did look at her. “We’re gonna be okay,” she said, her voice strong and gentle. And Peter wondered how this woman was able to be so strong right now. When the one person she loved most was dying right before her. 

“You can rest now,”

Tony nodded, and his head lolled to the side, gaze blank, and Peter felt a dull ringing in his head. 

And then Tony was silent….

* * *

It was a beautiful day. 

The sun was bright, the sky an azure blue, the grass a shining green, and there was the perfect amount of silver clouds drifting in the sky. And of all the beauty in the world, Peter couldn’t help but hate it. Just a little bit. 

It was just after Tony’s….his…..and Peter couldn’t find it inside of himself to appreciate the beautiful day that it was. He was sitting on a bench, in the shade of the cabin’s roof, overlooking the small crowd of people and the green lake. Peter leaned on his knees and rubbed his hands with his head bowed, as he sat there alone in his grief. 

He had been silent since Tony died. Not saying a word to anyone. Not even May. And just coming to the funeral had caused the boy to go into a solemn quiet. It was almost scary. Peter didn’t talk to anyone, only saying something to Mrs. Potts when she came up to him and gave him a hug; asking how he was doing. But anything after that? Nothing. 

Peter watched, with a stone look on his face, as the floral wreath containing Tony’s first arc reactor floated across the lake. He still had trouble believing that Tony was gone. Really gone...But whether or not he believed it, didn’t change the reality of it. 

So as soon as he could, Peter got away from the crowd, retreating from the prying eyes of those feeling sorry for him and away from the mutual grumbles of how Tony was a good man. 

So he hid, and found a small sanctuary underneath the shade, where no one would bother him. 

Or at least so he thought. 

“Hey, you’re the boy in the picture.” a small voice said next to him. Peter turned to whoever spoke, fiercely wiping away the tears that had bloomed in his eyes, and he was met with the sight of a little girl. No older than five years old, with short brown hair, fair skin, and a cute black dress with a white collar. She stared at him with familiar brown eyes and Peter felt himself choke up. 

Morgan. 

“Y-yeah. I guess,” he said, uncertainly. “I mean, w-what picture are you talking about?” 

The little girl walked over and sat down next to him on the bench. Peter stiffened. “The picture of you and my dad doing bunny ears.” 

_ Bunny ears?  _ Peter thought, and then it hit him. The picture they took when Tony gave him the Stark Internship certificate. Peter gave a small smile as he remembered that day. Tony had driven him upstate, and he had wanted to give Peter a training day in a proper facility, but before he could, Tony had pulled him aside and gave him the certificate. “ _ To help with the cover-up of course.”  _ He had said. But Peter was pretty sure that the man just wanted to have a photo with him. So he went along with it, and the two had decided to do bunny ears and it had been fun. 

It was a good memory for Peter. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I remember that.” 

“Did you know my dad?” Morgan asked, her voice innocently curious, as Peter felt more tears rise. He willed them down, forcing them to stay in his eyes, and gave a strained smile to Morgan. He leaned back in the bench and placed his hands in his lap. 

“Yeah, I knew your dad. He, uhm, helped me. He was like, my mentor. He trained me, helped me, taught me things. He was a good guy.” 

Morgan looked away from Peter, her face looking ever so dejected. Peter felt a rock form in his stomach. “What?” he asked. 

Morgan made a face and looked down at her dress. “All everyone says is the same thing.”

“But it’s true,” Peter said. “He was a good guy. Everyone loved him.”    
“But…. no one talks about him... I just wanna hear a story.” she muttered, her eyes becoming glassy. Peter looked at Morgan and felt something reach out to her. He understood how she was feeling. When Ben had died, all anyone said was how good of a guy he was and that they were sorry for his death. And Peter had hated it. So he could only imagine how Morgan felt when all she wanted to hear right now was stories of her father, something to connect to him. So, of course, she would seek out Peter. The boy in the picture who had to know some stories of her dad. 

Peter smiled. She really was Tony’s daughter. 

The teen leaned to the side, towards Morgan, and whispered in an almost comical manner, “Hey, did your dad ever tell you about the time he found me eating ice cream on the ceiling of the Avengers compound?” 

Morgan whipped her head around to look at Peter, her eyes bright and hopeful. She shook her head vigorously and shifted her seating position so that she was sitting closer to Peter and facing him. Peter sat up straight and a sly smirk made its way on his face.

“Well, then do I have a story for you.” 

And then for the next couple of hours, Peter and Morgan relayed their favorite stories of Tony. At one point, a kid named Harley had joined the pair and he started telling a story of how he had found Tony in his barn insulting his potato gun, and then how he proceeded to make him an even better one. Then soon enough, the three kids were laughing and smiling fondly at their memories of their father. 

And Peter wondered how Tony had not introduced them all together before? But then it just reminded Peter than Tony now will never get the chance. But, at least now they had found each other, even if the circumstances were more than grim. 

And Peter had to admit, it was nice being able to talk about Tony without having some adult look at him pitifully. So he smiled for the first time in days, and laughed for the first time in weeks, and the brunet had decided that he loved being here with Harley and Morgan. Maybe they could all hang out more in the future. It seemed like he and Harley were close in age, and Morgan would love to hear all of the stories Peter had about her dad. And now that he thought about it, he didn’t think that Pepper would mind Morgan having an older brother figure. If of course, she would let him. 

So Peter talked that day. And the day after that. And the day after that. And slowly, but surely, Peter became the person he had once been. Of course, he was still hurting, he doubted that he ever stop hurting, but it was becoming more tolerable to live with the longer he lived on. 

And maybe...maybe Peter didn’t have to be silent anymore. 

Maybe he could talk to Ned and May. Maybe they would be able to understand his pain, or at least be there for him when he dealt with it. Maybe he would be able to talk to Pepper and Harley about Tony, and he would sure as hell love to keep talking to Morgan. She was so much like her dad and just seeing the familiar lop-sided grin warmed the teen’s heart. Maybe he didn’t have to keep it all bottled inside. 

And maybe Peter didn’t have to be silent anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> 8000 words later and i am DONE!! WHOO! Anyway, i hope you guys enjoyed the pain/angst and the happy ending. I saw this poem and immediately thought of Peter in the first six months of having his powers. And then i thought about the rest of the time his family didn't know, and then this whole thing became way bigger than i intended it to.  
But anyway, thank you so much for reading and comments and kudos are always appreciated!! I love you guys!!!


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